Stabbed
by samara 17
Summary: Jimmy and Kid hope to simply stay out of each other's way when they are at the station alone, but then a stranger with a knife changes everything. Please read and review!
1. Default Chapter

Hi! I'm new to this whole fanficiton thing, but I really like to write. I had to make up certain things about the characters to add to the story and to improvise on things I did not know about. Of course, I do not own any of the characters. I hope you enjoy! 


	2. Stabbed

Teaspoon and the others rode out of sight shortly after the sun rose on a Friday morning. They had left Jim and me alone at the Way Station with nothing to do but wait for jobs. Business was excruciatingly slow, considering the fact that more folks were investing in the telegraph over the Pony Express. It left a dark cloud hovering over the building and our consciences. It was becoming more and more apparent that eventually we would be out on our own, alone, without the Pony Express and the Way Station to back us up.  
  
Jim and I had never been close buddies, either. Ever since Lou and I had become involved, I could tell he preferred not having me in his presence. We very rarely talked, even though we had worked side by side quite often. Of course, he would always back me up in a tough situation, and I would do the same for him, but that was true for all the employees of the Pony Express. Except, when I helped the others, I did it out of friendship, not out of the fact that it was the right thing to do for a fellow rider. If I saved his ass, he would be there to save mine at a later date.  
  
It was soon after our friends' departures that I had decided to sit down at the dining table and read a book. Lou had recommended it to me. The 300-paged book was called "Mortimer and Holly," and some guy named Mortimer Grillings wrote it. Lou told me it was a love story that reminded her of us, but I was never one to enjoy reading romance novels. I liked to learn things from books. If it was a non-fiction story about the stars, I would read it. If it told the reader how to cook a perfect tasting bowl of chili, I would absorb the information like a sponge. But romance novels weren't something I could improve my intelligence with. Plus, why would a fellow write a book about himself and some woman named Holly, anyhow? But, all in all, if it made Lou happy, I would be glad to read it to pass the slow- moving minutes of the day.  
  
I was on page four when Jim strolled into the station.  
  
He had on his cowhide riding pants, the ones each of us had a pair of, and an off-white shirt that was practically buried in dust. On his head was his black cowboy hat that he never removed, except for when he slept and took a bath. Thick strands of long brown hair masked his face, but his stern eyes and mouth could still be seen quite clearly. Jim Hickock was one year younger then I was, but his demeanor made him look like he was twice my age. But if I looked him straight in the face, I could still see how much of a boy he still was. I had only stared him down twice in my life, both times were in the midst of a fight.  
  
He used his teeth to remove his riding gloves and threw them onto the bunk closest to the door- his bunk.  
  
I leaned back in my chair, putting my feet up onto the table. I was trying my best to keep reading, but it was hard to hide my embarrassment when Hickock saw the cover of the book. He probably wouldn't say a word, but I knew what he would be thinking. It would be just another reason for him to see us as complete opposites.  
  
"Did Santos drop off that old Palomino, Jim?" I asked, trying to release the building tension in the building.  
  
He nodded as he cracked his knuckles. Then he began to remove his shirt to exchange it for a clean one.  
  
"What do you think?" I closed the book and leaned forward in my chair.  
  
"It looks better than it is."  
  
I ran a hand through my wavy hair and licked my dry lips.  
  
"Okay," I said, "how much did we pay for it?"  
  
Jim pushed his hair behind his ears. "He offered it for one-hundred, but I got it for ninety."  
  
We had been short one horse for almost a month. Ike's young Palomino had fallen ill with lung disease, and Teaspoon was afraid that it would pass the illness onto the rest of the animals. We had to keep it in Mr. John's stable until its expected recovery. Unfortunately, the disease didn't leave the animal, and it died soon after the move.  
  
"Look," I muttered, "I know all this is pretty awkward, but the others will be back by Monday. I think ."  
  
Hickock shook his head, an annoyed expression bursting onto his face.  
  
"Don't," he replied, "just don't."  
  
Conversation halted between us for the rest of the day. There wasn't anything to say between us anyhow. I kept busy doing odd jobs around the station, stopping occasionally to force myself into the novel. Hickock spent most of the day outside, trying to avoid me. Maybe that was how we were going to survive the weekend, by living separate lives completely.  
  
By nightfall, I was bored out of my mind. I felt completely alone, and I missed Lou. I laid down on my bunk toward the back of the station and thought of her. She had been right; the book did remind me of us. Mortimer was a hansom professor who lived for adventure, and Holly was his beautiful lover who delighted in making people laugh. Just the description of Holly reminded me of Lou- a short, dark woman, with hansom blue eyes and chestnut brown hair. Sometimes I wished that I had married Lou when she had proposed, but I always had it in my mind that I would live my life of danger and peril first, and then I'd settle down with a woman. But Lou wasn't just like any other girl. She probably wouldn't ever settle down. I wasn't sure if she even wanted a family, even though she had said once that she'd eventually like to be a mother.  
  
"What does it matter, anyway?" I whispered to myself. "I love her. I always will."  
  
I placed a hand over my heart as if I was about to say the Pledge of Allegiance. It eased my pain to think that wherever Lou was, her heart was beating inside her chest, too, and sometimes that heart yearned for me.  
  
Then another thought entered my mind.  
  
Where the hell is Jim? I was beginning to worry about him. The last time I'd seen him was when he had come into the station to have supper, which, of course, he ate separately from me. Then he had disappeared back outside. I figured he was still working with that old Palomino and maybe doing some work in the barn, but it was getting pretty dark outside. The only people that stayed out after dark in Sweetwater were thieves.  
  
I suddenly began to dose off. My stomach was full of dumplings from dinner, and ever since I was a little boy, boredom and a full stomach had put me right to sleep. The only thing keeping me slightly awake was Jim.  
  
Don't worry, Kid, I told myself. James Hickock can take care of himself.  
"KID!"  
  
I shot straight up in the bed. My hand still remained placed over my heart, and I could feel the racket it was making inside my breast.  
  
"KID! GET OUT HERE!"  
  
It was Jim. The sound of his voice was coming from the fenced-in pasture besides the building.  
  
I leapt from the bunk bed and sprinted out the door. Immediately I realized that I had not been asleep for too long, because the moon was still low over the horizon, and it was still early in the night.  
  
As I came off the porch, I saw a rider leaving town in a hurry, dust bellowing up from underneath his or her horse's feet.  
  
My eyes shot to the right of me as I approached the fence; someone was gripping the railing so they could pull themselves up against it for support. In my brain, I immediately knew who it was. Seeing the trademark black cowboy hat only confirmed my thoughts.  
  
"Jim!" I shouted.  
  
There was blood dripping down off of his body, hitting the ground in splatters.  
  
I jumped the fence and positioned myself at his side.  
  
"Dammit.Kid, go after him!" He screamed, pointing toward the cloud of dust exiting the town at high speed.  
  
"What?" I didn't understand. He was facing away from me, his body leaning over the fence like an unsupported scarecrow. I placed my hands on his back, now clad with a jacket, and felt his body trembling.  
  
"He stole. the damned.h-horse!"  
  
My foot hit something hard lying on the ground by Hickock's feet. The clinking sound it made caught my attention, and I gaped down at it.  
  
What I saw was a knife. A small, silver one with blood on its blade, and a broken-off tip.  
  
"Jim, tell me what happened." I said.  
  
"He's getting away!"  
  
The poor kid was torn between taking care of himself and getting that old Palomino back into his possession.  
  
"Forget him! Where are you hurt?" I suddenly found myself yelling. I had just woken up not five minutes before, and I still wasn't sure if this was a dream or reality.  
  
He wouldn't move for a second, and then, finally, I helped him maneuver against the fence so that now he was facing me. I had to hold him up against the fence to keep him from falling over. Our faces were so close that his hat rim hit the tip of my forehead.  
  
It was as if facing me had made him realize what had actually happened to him. His expression suddenly went from searing anger to utter shock.  
  
"Bastard. got me.good in the gut." He muttered.  
  
I couldn't look away from his eyes for a moment. Staring him down during those two fights were nothing compared to this. This time, we were not seeing each other as enemies. We were not competing. I was not trying to hurt him. This time, what I saw in him was dependence. He needed my help.  
  
Together we removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, while the blood poured out of his wound. When I caught my first glance at it, I thought he was a goner. The thief had plunged the knife into the right side of his gut two times, and I knew by looking at the weapon that somewhere inside of Jim was the tip of the knife.  
  
"It hurts." He said, through clenched teeth.  
  
Billions of thoughts passed through my mind at that moment. Doctor. doctor.operation.stitches.Jim is going to die.money to pay for the doctor.what'll I tell Teaspoon.this is my fault! Then, that miraculous voice in the back of my brain screamed- Get him in the house and stop the bleeding!  
  
That was what I was going to do.  
  
"I'm taking you in the house, okay?" I told him.  
  
He coughed and steadied himself by holding onto me. "I'm going.to.die."  
  
"No way."  
  
Then, without his permission, I carried him into the station like a hurt child. He didn't put up much of a fight, but with a wound like that I didn't expect him to. Another thought crossed my mind- He weighs a lot less than I thought he would.  
  
I laid him down on his bunk very carefully, but it still irritated his stomach. He groaned with pain.  
  
I grabbed as many towels and washcloths as I could find, and bunched them up into a white mound. Next, I sat down on his bunk and applied pressure to the wound.  
  
"Owwww.Kid." He whispered, but although it hurt him, he still helped me apply pressure to his stomach.  
  
My heart hurt for him. I kept remembering the words he had spoken to me in the yard, and thinking about how horrible it must have been for him to think he was going to die.  
  
"You're okay.you're okay." I said, soothingly. "As soon as I get the bleeding under control, I'll get the doctor."  
  
He coughed several times, but was still able to nod.  
  
"Kid?"  
  
"Yeah?" I looked at his face again.  
  
But he didn't say anything.  
The white mound I was using seemed to help the bleeding, but I did not want to waste anymore time there on that bunk with Hickock without a doctor present. I felt guilty about having to leave him, and I prayed inside my head that he would stay alive long enough for me to say the things I had neglected to say when he was healthy. I wanted to tell him that I respected him and that, through it all, I still considered him to be my brother. Hell, brothers get into fist-fights, don't they?  
  
I gathered up more towels for Hickock to use while I was gone, and I placed them on the bed close enough for him to reach. He still applied a good amount of pressure to his wound, and I was thankful that he still had some strength inside of him. He was going to need it.  
  
"I'm going to get the doctor now." I told him. "Just keep applying pressure."  
  
His eyes caught mine, and he called out my name. "Kid."  
  
"I have to go."  
  
"I know.I know."  
  
I didn't know what to do. Like it or not, I was going to have to leave him there alone with his thoughts.  
  
He might not be alive when you get back, I thought to myself.  
  
"I'm sorry." I said.  
  
"For." he winced at the pain, "what?"  
  
I put a hand on his forehead. "Hang on. Just hang on."  
  
He nodded. "I'm trying, Kid."  
  
I smiled slightly, and then ran to get the doctor.  
Luckily, Dr. Frank lived fairly close to the station. I had hopped onto the closest horse in the corral and forced it into a gallop right away. The wind was picking up, and I had to hold onto my hat to keep it on my head. My stomach was doing vicious twirls, and I suddenly wanted to through up. Something inside my head kept screaming at me to stop the horse, and that Jim was already dead. Maybe I should have stayed with him. At least then I could have been there if he died. Nobody should ever have to die alone, especially not an eighteen year-old kid. Jim Hickock was the toughest guy I knew, and he had been badly hurt before, but never like this. He was never in danger of actually bleeding to death, alone. I had to save him.  
  
I arrived at Dr. Frank's front porch and knocked angrily at the front door. All the lights were off, and I assumed that everyone was asleep.  
  
Come on. Come on! I yelled inside my head. If I had said it out loud, I probably would have woken up the entire town.  
  
I pounded vigorously on the wooden door and almost shattered the thin glass that read- Doctor Jonas Frank- in gold cursive.  
  
Suddenly, the place was illuminated by the glow of a candle. Dr. Frank opened the door slightly and peeked his head out at me.  
  
"Kid? What is it?"  
  
"It's Jim Hickock. He's been stabbed twice in the stomach." I felt a huge weight being lifted off my chest. Finally, Jim had a chance.  
  
Jonas opened the door all the way and allowed me to walk in.  
  
"Alright. Just let me get my supplies."  
  
Jonas was an elderly man in his mid-sixties, who was the only trustable doctor in town; he had saved many lives. He was also a religious man, who made sure he treated every person with respect and kindness. I had always liked the man, and we had become good friends. Every Sunday after church, if I wasn't working, I would sit on the porch and talk to him about nothing in particular. Most of the time we discussed the topic of that day's sermon. Other times we talked about his childhood and his late wife. But now, he had to be professional, something he also did very well.  
  
He talked as he changed fumbled around in the dark. I lit another candle so he could see better.  
  
"How bad is the bleeding?"  
  
"Not too bad. I was able to get it under control."  
  
"Good boy. And how did all this happen?"  
  
I hesitated for a moment. I wasn't too sure myself.  
  
"A thief stole our new Palomino and rode out of town with it. Jim was stabbed in the process."  
  
"Lord Almighty. This town is getting worse by the day." He said to himself, almost to the point where I couldn't hear him.  
  
The house was quiet for a minute or two, all except for the sounds of Dr. Frank's hurried gathering of his supplies.  
  
Then, I spoke. "He's in a lot of pain."  
  
Dr. Frank grabbed one last tool out of a black bag- a bottle of some unknown substance- and approached me.  
  
"Don't worry. I'll probably have to sedate him anyhow. He won't hurt if he's asleep, my friend."  
  
We quickly blew out the candles and left.  
"Jim, are you okay?" I asked as soon as the doctor and I were at Jim's bedside. He didn't look okay. His hands and the towels were soaked with blood, and Jim's skin was white as a sheet. Sweat dampened his long hair and matted it to his furrowed brow. He breathed in and out deeply, as if that was his only job and he was going to do it perfectly.  
  
"Kid! You're.back."  
  
"Yep, and I got Dr. Frank right here with me."  
  
Jonas was busy lighting a candle.  
  
"Oh.hello." Jim said, almost comically.  
  
"Good day to you, sir." Dr. Frank greeted. He handed me the lit candle, and I held it above Jim as the doctor strapped on his sterile rubber gloves. "Could you remove your hands and the towels, please?"  
  
I took Hickock's right hand off of his stomach and held it, squeezing it gently as he and the doctor cleared off the wound.  
  
"Kid, what.are you. doing?" Jim asked, looking down at our hands.  
  
I swallowed, slightly embarrassed. "Holding your hand."  
  
He suddenly smiled through the pain, and squeezed my hand back.  
  
Wow, I thought, he's not angry.  
  
Jonas inspected the wound tenderly at first, but then had to poke around inside one when he felt something hard protruding from it.  
  
"Owwwww.oh God." Hickock screamed, and nearly cut the circulation off in my hand.  
  
"What's inside this one?" Jonas asked.  
  
I looked up. "I think it's the tip of the knife."  
  
"What?" Jim gasped, squirming underneath the intense pain.  
  
"Alright, I need to get that out and get you stitched up, son." Jonas said.  
  
Hickock closed his eyes and I saw tears streaming down his cheeks. "Will he be okay?" I asked.  
  
"I'd say so. But he was very lucky." Jonas touched my arm. "I'll need your help, okay?"  
  
I nodded, and Dr. Frank removed his gloves and got off the bed.  
  
"I'll need a large bowl and a place to set it down."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"And you'll have to keep that light on him the whole time."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Jim opened his eyes and looked at me.  
  
I let go of his hand and stood. "I'll be right back, buddy."  
  
It didn't take me long to follow Dr. Frank's orders. I searched the cabinets in the back for a bowl, and found a wide, deep, steel one way in the back. Then I snatched a footstool from the floor and put an old sheet over it. Next, I found a thick, barely used candle and lit it, just to make sure we didn't run out of light during the procedure. I placed the footstool next to Jim's bed, and sat the bowl on top of it. I grabbed the candle, and held it in my right hand, gripping Jim's hand in my left.  
  
Jonas smiled and poured half a bottle full of clear liquid into the bowl. Then he put on his rubber gloves and doused them in the same liquid. He then proceeded to place various instruments in the bowl.  
  
"What's that liquid in the bowl?" I asked.  
  
"Oh, it's just something I use to sterilize things." He smiled. "Are you interested in medicine?"  
  
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know."  
  
"He's going.to be.a doctor." Jim whispered.  
  
I grinned at him. "No, I'm not smart enough."  
  
Hickock coughed. "Whatever.you say."  
  
This kind of conversation was almost unheard of between Hickock and I. It surprised me that he wasn't disgusted with me right then. I was treating him like a little kid, trying to comfort him and all. He hated being treated like that; at least he usually did.  
  
The doctor pulled out a bottle of ether and dabbed it onto a white cloth.  
  
"God, it hurts.Kid." Jim said. He suddenly started to breath heavier.  
  
"I know, but Dr. Frank is going to put you to sleep." I put a hand on his forehead.  
  
"Maybe.I won't wake up."  
  
I frowned. "You will. You have to. I."  
  
Dr. Frank held up the wet cloth. "Now just relax Mr. Hickock. We'll see you when you wake up."  
  
"No!" Jim cried. "Wait." He held the doctor's arm back a bit.  
  
"What is it, Jim?" I asked, noticing that he had tightened the grip on my hand.  
  
"Kid.uuhhnn.I'm sorry. I want you to know that if I don't wake up.that.you were always my friend. Even during the fighting."  
  
"I know, buddy. You're going to be okay."  
  
He groaned in pain. "I'm sorry I never acted like I felt."  
  
"Shhh.just relax." I soothed. "Even brothers get in fights sometimes."  
  
He let go of the doctor and began to take in slow breaths of the ether. His eyes started to close, but his grip on my hand still remained.  
  
"I'm scared. I don't want to die." Tears streamed down his eyes.  
  
"I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."  
  
Then he was gone.  
I sat on the hard wooden floor next to the bed where Jim was still sleeping. Daylight was beginning to peak in through the windows of the station, and I realized that morning had come. Dr. Frank had gone home soon after the operation had ended, handing the responsibility of caring for Hickock over to me. I really did not mind, though. As long as Jim woke up and was happy and healthy again, I would be just fine. Even if it meant not sleeping.  
  
I stood up and stretched my body vigorously. There was something very peaceful about the station in the early morning hours. Maybe it was the fact that most people are peaceful when they first wake up, making the area around them seem calm and serene. I looked out the window for a few minutes, realizing how tired I was, and then sat myself down on the bed beside Jim. He had been asleep for most of the night, and it got me thinking more about what he had said. What if he didn't wake up? What would I do then? I had promised him that he would be okay.  
  
"Kid?"  
  
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the tiny whisper coming from Jim Hickock.  
  
"Kid.am I alive?"  
  
I looked at him for a second, and noticed that the color was returning to his face.  
  
"Of course you're alive." I whispered.  
  
The corners of his mouth turned up into a tiny smile. "Wow."  
  
I removed the black cowboy hat from his head; something I should have done the night before.  
  
He shifted in the bed, trying to shake the stiffness out of his aching body. Then he rested his hands on his bandaged stomach. "What day is it?"  
  
"Saturday. It's still early in the morning." I yawned.  
  
"Wait a minute. You didn't stay awake with me all night did you?"  
  
"Couldn't you tell from the bags under my eyes?" I said.  
  
He coughed a couple of times, and then proceeded to raise himself up higher onto the bed.  
  
"Oww.," he said through clenched teeth. "Man, it hurts."  
  
"Yeah, well, you were stabbed." I said smartly.  
  
"Ugghh.I know, I know." He winced.  
  
"Why did he stab you?" I asked as I repositioned myself on the bed.  
  
"Because he wanted the horse, and."  
  
"You put up a fight, didn't you?"  
  
He chuckled. "Sure I did. Wouldn't you?"  
  
"Not if he had a knife."  
  
He shook his head, and began to crack his knuckles, a slight smile still on his face. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he was having trouble saying it.  
  
"I really owe you one, don't I Kid?" He said, taking my hand and squeezing it.  
  
I sighed and squeezed it back.  
  
"Why did you help me?" He asked, a slight sadness in his eyes.  
  
"Because you would have done the same for me."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"And because I care about you. You're like my brother."  
  
He swallowed and ran his left hand through his hair. Then he sighed. "I meant what I said last night. It wasn't just the fear talking."  
  
"Oh I know." I whispered. "And I meant what I said."  
  
Then, there was silence. Not just silence, peace. Like a four year fight had just been settled between us.  
  
"Kid?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Go to bed, okay?"  
  
"Gladly." 


End file.
